


I Know What it Takes to Fool this Town

by spellitwithyourpeas



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Karen tells Frank about Wesley, Long One Shot, Slow Burn, i promise frank shows up, i suck at summaries, kastle - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 08:21:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6462865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spellitwithyourpeas/pseuds/spellitwithyourpeas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James Wesley may be dead, but the weight of that night still is heavy. She feels the pressure build and the panic set in. She wants to move on and maybe with some help she could. If anybody can understand her actions, it'd be Frank Castle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know What it Takes to Fool this Town

**Author's Note:**

> I really suck at summaries! Hope you enjoy! Definitely had some inspiration from the shower scene in Casino Royale where Bond comforts Vesper ;)

The thunder woke her up. She had fallen asleep, head cradled in her arms, resting on Ben’s-, no, her desk, but the thunder had startled her back to the land of the living. Karen rubbed her eyes and sniffed. The office had emptied hours ago. The others were used to her being the last one out now. Gone were the “Don’t you have somewhere better to be on a Friday night?”. A few of them got it. They understood the drive to just keep going.

 It was 1:05 and there was a downpour. The rain was pelting the roof like bullets raining from the sky.

Her computer screen had faded to black. She resettled in her chair and jostled the mouse. Her document returned. She was almost done with the story. “Woman shoots Captor in Self Defense.” Ellison had wanted a few individual pieces, a quick diversion from the gang wars and stories about all the drugs being pushed through the city. And then she’d heard about Nina Wilson and the events of that night came flooding back. It had been one year to the date.

Karen Page had always been good with dates. After working with Foggy and Matt and being the only one keeping track of the bills, well you got pretty good with counting the days before your electricity gets shut off.

It started with the flash backs. The chill down her spine, the pins and needles crawling down her legs. She was unsettled, on edge, more than usual. How many times had she had a gun pointed in her direction recently? That’s when the fear crept in. The silent taunt of what’s it going to be next? What’s lurking around the corner. Fisk had invaded her dreams again. She’d dream about being at work, on a night like this, and she’d look up and there he was. Sitting in her office.  And she’d move to run and then he was on her. She felt the pain, the desperation, and the pressure of his hands on her neck. And she’d wake gasping, clutching her throat. She’d been sleep walking the past week. Ellison had noticed. She’d play it off, like it was the story she had been following, not ghosts from her past.

Not ghosts. He was still out there. Alive and waiting. Wesley had been his right hand man. He wouldn’t forget.  

Ellison would tell her to get some sleep and she’d smile and duck into her office before he started digging beneath the cracking surface of her façade.

She’d eventually slow her breathing, calm herself before getting out of bed in the morning. And then the anger would set in. At herself. For allowing the past to interfere with the present. She’d been doing well at the Bulletin. She felt like she was finally reaching her potential. Doing what she loved. Angry over the people who had been left in the wake of her search for the truth. For Ben-the dreams wouldn’t let her forget. Anger for holding on to this secret. There had been times when she could have come clean. Maybe not to the police. At the time, Fisk had everybody in his pocket. And now, well she didn’t trust that she’d be safe when word reached the bastard in prison. But maybe she could have explained to someone she trusted. Someone close.

Three chances.

She’d had three chances.

“ _You said you think they might know that we went out to St. Benezet. How?”_ She’d taken a drink, averted her eyes, “ _It’s just a feeling_ ”. She’d done a good job of burying the words _._ I killed him. I had to. He was going to hurt my family, my friends. I had to.

 “ _We need that story out there. Before it’s too late._ She believed in goodness, in what was right, and what was truthful. Karen Page had lasted this long because she trusted her goddamn gut.

  _Hey, Karen…there’s been something in your voice. It’s been there for a while now…. I thought it would get better once Fisk was put away. But it hasn’t, has it?”_ No Matt, it’s still there.

 _“Yeah, we put him away. But it won’t bring back Elena. Or Ben. Or erase what we’ve been through. What we’ve had to do to get here._ What I had to do to survive.

_A 380 shows thought. Maybe it’s not your first rodeo._

_Maybe it isn’t_

It isn’t. I did what I had to do.

The thunder rumbled and it snapped her attention back to the present. 1:10.

She sighed, let’s go. Just get home, have a drink, and sleep it off.

She rubbed her eyes and let out a huff. She saved her document, shut down her computer and gathered her belongings.  The alcohol hadn’t been working as well as she’d hoped. She knew she needed to do something.  The pressure was building up. That was what scared her. She needed some resolution. Part of her thought she’d get it from helping with Frank’s case, but that had ended with a different kind of resolution.

It had been a few weeks since their chat by the river. Even before then, she’d found an envelope in her mail box with a very generous amount of cash and a sticky note with “Sorry about the car” scrawled on it. Fixing the damage hadn’t been cheap.

She’d had drinks with Foggy recently. It had been good to catch up. Part of her thought of calling him, but Foggy…Foggy deserved a normal life. He shouldn’t get dragged back into all of this.

Karen walked to the small parking lot behind the building, umbrella up in one hand, and the other holding onto her purse with a strong grip, car keys looped around her fingers. She got in her car and locked the doors. Glancing in the rearview, noting the empty seats. She half expected to see Fisk himself, grinning back at her.

Her hands shook as she started the car.

The streets were clear. A few stragglers on the sidewalk. There wasn’t much happening on a Tuesday night. Shit-no Wednesday. Wednesday morning.  She’d finish the story today and get it to Ellison. Maybe take a day off-he wouldn’t mind. He’d been telling her to take one for a while now. She’d catch up on sleep and figure out a way to move on.

She felt like she was dragging her feet as she climbed the stairs to her apartment. The elevator was out again. The door opened to her dark apartment. With the door shut, she locked it and dropped her things on the kitchen counter.

Home. The bullet holes that riddled her wall had since been patched up. Karen used it as an opportunity to paint. A shade of yellow. Something happy.

She flipped the light switch, illuminating her small home. Even the warm colors, the soft glow that highlighted the art she’d hung on the wall, the few pictures smiling back at her seemed empty to her now. The exhaustion hit her and she poured herself a glass of scotch and took a sip-embracing the harsh taste. Enjoying its burn. She scrunched up her nose nevertheless. It was a terrible way to try and solve problems. Oh she knew it. But it was easy. And right now Karen needed easy. She finished her the drink quickly.

Lightning stuck and the lights flickered.

It had started with a flicker-the shitty lamp outside of her old apartment. The cloth smothering her mouth. The suffocating feeling as she resisted, palms on the glass.

Stop it Karen, she told herself. The muddy, sleep deprived part of her mocked her. That’s right. Shove it down. See how well that’s been helping.

Thunder followed and she startled-glass shattered to the floor.

“Shit, shit, shit”. She felt the tears well up. She grabbed a dish cloth and sank to the floor and started to tidy the shards of glass into a pile. She felt the prick of sharp pain, and then a small trickle of blood.

Stupid. Stupid. “Fuck this.”

Karen stood and stepped over the rest of the pieces to her bathroom. She rinsed off her hand and pulled a band aid out of the medicine cabinet. Shutting the cabinet her reflection stared back. God, she looked worse than she’d expected. She remembered the empty chair. After she came to. Then she heard his voice and she froze. She hated it. Feeling trapped. And she’d tried to bolt. Then she felt his hands on her shoulder and his voice, his condescending voice and the fear of what may come.

She quickly bandaged her finger. Her breaths came a little faster. And it was like a flood. Like the wall she’d been holding up was shaking and coming crashing down. She sat on the edge of her tub. Hand on her chest.

It’s a panic attack. Just breathe. Just breathe. Trapped and scared. No, she thought. No, I was strong. I made it through. And the tears of frustration she’d been holding back came full force.

She kicked off her shoes and took off her blouse and skirt. She turned on the faucet, letting the sound of the rush of water from the shower head spattering on the tub block out the sound of her heart beating hard and fast. She sank into the tub, feeling the water soak through her cami and underwear. She didn’t care. The warmth enveloped her and she closed her eyes. He’d taken out the gun and placed it on the table and that’s when the reality hit her. She was either going to make it out or not. Whether she made it out on her terms or his depended on who pulled the trigger. And this knowledge, this realization had woken her up, she felt the willpower and the coordination return. He’d been bullshitting her. Taking his sweet time ruminating on fate. Playing with her. Threatening her and everything she loved and she faltered. But the phone rang. Almost serving as a reminder that the power had been out of his hands the second he put the gun on the table. And everything slowed down from the adrenaline as he taunted her. She hated him. And she shot him. She killed him. And the relief faded as the weight of her actions came crashing down.

Karen wept. She wished it could mean nothing to her. That she could move on. That she could live fully in two worlds. It was self-defense, it was the only way to keep the people she loved safe, but it had to be a secret. Steam was rising and she felt the heat of the water. She was soaked but she stayed curled up under the water.

\------

Frank hadn’t had a busy night. He’d been tailing a lead in a sex trafficking case, but the trail ran cold. Not something he was used to. He was even considering calling in Red on this one. Get some good use out of that superhuman hearing. He’d rather start with Ms. Page than Mr. Murdock. He needed facts, solid leads and he was pretty sure she’d have something. He’d ditched the punisher gear at a nearby stash and changed into civilian clothes. Baseball cap and army green jacket. Rain dripped from the rim of the hat. It was a rare instance, but his face had only traces of past bruises. He’d been avoiding close range when he could. Not that he’d expected to run into anyone on a night like this.

He started walking towards Karen’s apartment complex. She’d been busy. He’d almost crossed paths with her on a couple of nights. And that worried him. She was following stories like a bloodhound. He tried to stay close, keep an eye out for trouble, but he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

The streets were empty and it wasn’t like him to worry. A problem comes up? You handle it.

Karen Page had never been a problem. An unexpected ally. He didn’t have friends. Couldn’t. But he trusted her and he owed her.

Frank turned the corner and saw the building. He looked up to the 5th floor. The light was on. He checked his watch. 2:15. He shook his head, Shit woman, do you sleep? Lucky for you, no-he shoved the thought aside.

There was no buzzer and the front door wasn’t locked.

He took the stairs. Slowly. Last time he’d been up this way he knocked out two cops and stared down the barrel of a 380.

Frank stopped, hand hovering in front of the door for a second before he knocked. He glanced down the hall. It was empty, but he felt uncomfortable waiting around. His eyes narrowed. No sounds of footsteps hurrying to the door. Maybe asleep. His fingers tapped restlessly against his thigh.

The lock was nothing to pick. He stepped into the apartment. He heard the sound of the shower running. Shit, he turned to leave-ready to open the door he’d just closed- when he spotted the broken glass and the bottle of scotch. Frank started towards the bathroom.

\---

The water was cold and she was shivering. Then she heard her door close. No no no. Eyes wild, she panicked, hands grasping the tub. Her gun was in her purse in the kitchen. Then she heard a knock at the bathroom. And she hoped it was who her muddled brain imagined it to be.

“Ma’am. I don’t mean to-shit- I shouldn’t have come in but I saw the glass. You, uh, you good?” Frank waited outside the door.

She released the breath she’d been holding. A hand flew to her mouth to cover the sob that started to shake through her.

Frank heard her cry out and opened the door. Karen glanced up at him, eyes wide and red. “Frank?” she whispered.

He saw her shivering, the water droplets running down her brow, the exhaustion evident on her face. He crouched down next to the tub. “Hey, I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” His voice was low and quiet.  She nodded and she relaxed back into the tub. Frank slowly settled against the wall parallel to the tub. He glanced over at her.

He’d recognized the fear in her eyes-the residue of shock and panic running through her- he’d seen plenty of it with his time overseas. Scratch that, he’d seen it plenty of times here, usually he was the cause. Not with her though. This was something else, something lingering. He quickly appraised the situation. No blood. No bruises. No sign of something physical-other than the band aid wrapped around her finger.

He pulled his hat off and rubbed his eyes. She’d settled a bit, still shivering. “You look cold. I’m just gonna turn off the shower.” He reached over and shut off the faucet and leaned back.

 Frank Castle was not the kind of man to fill silence. Was he unsettled? One hundred fucking percent yes he was. Did he want answers as to what had been the cause of her panic? What had torn through one of the strongest women he knew and caused her to break? Yes. He leaned his head against the wall, arms resting on his knees. But he’d wait. It’d be on her terms.

Karen spared a glance at Frank. He was calm and quiet. It felt good to have him present. He looked out of place in her small bathroom. The faucet dripped. Quiet little drops of water hit the tub. It was the first thing she had heard when she came to that night. That “pluck” and plop. She saw the life-less body splayed back in the chair and she wished she could put it all behind her. But maybe it was the fear of history repeating herself, the fear of what may be next. If there was anyone who would understand it would be the man who just broke into her apartment.

“Do you-”, Karen cleared her throat, “do you have nightmares?”

Frank’s grip on the soaked hat tightened. He ducked his head, “Every night ma’am. Every night. Don’t sleep much cause of it. It’s a blur, most of it. You know, a mix. My family’s faces, the screams, the shots.” He scrunched up his nose and looked away.

“What about the men you’ve killed?” she whispered as she stared blankly ahead.

“Yeah, uh, yeah I do.” His voice was gruff, but unwavering. Karen rested her head on her arms, turning to study the strange juxtapose of the Punisher and her tiny bathroom. “I don’t regret it.” He looks at her and sees her nods, understanding.

Frank grabbed the towel hanging on the rack on the wall he had been leaning up against. “Hey. Let’s get you warm, ok?”. Karen sniffled, releasing a staggered breath. “It’s been-,”, she wasn’t meeting his gaze, “I just had a rough night, you know. Um, just needed-‘

“Hey. Look at me.”  Karen looked up and the compassion she saw nearly broke her resolve to pull it together.  “It’s ok.” He wrapped the towel around her and she nearly blushed. At least she hadn’t been so calm as to take off her clothes and take a shower like a normal person. Frank was a matter a fact kinda guy, but then she’d have been even more embarrassed without her cami and underwear. Her hands shook as she moved to stand up.

“Lets just make this easy.” Swiftly and smoothly, Frank scooped her up into his arms. He settled back into his spot against the wall, this time with Karen wrapped snuggly in her towel leaning against him. He drew the towel up and started gently to dry her locks of her blond hair.

The gentleness surprised her, but she knew it shouldn’t have. “I used to be in charge of Lisa’s hair, when I was home. I’d braid it every morning before she went to school. Strange right? To imagine me doing that.” His voice broke a little at the end and he quieted. Karen smiled, leaning back feeling his slow inhales and exhales. “No. Not strange”.

She closed her eyes. “Frank, you remember Wilson Fisk?”. She felt him tense and pause before “Yeah. He’s a shitbag.”

She leaned closer. Craving the warmth and presence .“Last year, when everything was going down. I was helping Ben, a reporter from the Bulletin, look into him.” Karen felt, more than heard, the Mmm, rumble through his chest.

“We found his mother. She didn’t remember much, but uh, she remembered enough.” She took a deep breath. It was like she’d already pulled the trigger. The bullet was already moving forward. The words were coming out and although her heart was racing, she felt calm. At peace. He would understand. He would say what she needed to hear.

“James Wesley was Fisk’s right hand man and he found out before Fisk did.” Karen spoke in a cold, flat tone. “He kidnapped me as I was walking up to my apartment. I woke up in a room in a warehouse by the pier. It felt like I was paralyzed, like I couldn’t breathe.” Tears ran slowly down her cheek. “He taunted me. Wanted me to stop the story.  He pulled a gun out and put it on the table. Threatened to go after my family and friends and leave me for last. I was so scared.” Hate dripped off of each word. “Then his phone range and I grabbed the gun. He started bluffing. He moved and I shot him. I shot him seven times and threw the gun into the river.” She choked down a sob of relief.

Karen had spoken to him as if he was the priest and she the confessor. The irony wasn’t lost on him. He felt her tremble in his arms. “What does that make me Frank?”  she quietly asked.

“A survivor.” He hugged her close to him. Shushing and speaking words of comfort as she cried what she knew would be her last over the events of last year. “You hear me Karen? You did what you had to do to get out of there alive. I know Fisk and he-,” He wouldn’t have stopped till you were dead, he thought. “You couldn’t have gone to the cops. There would’ve been a trail to follow.”

Karen sniffed and sighed. “I just want to be able to move on.”

“You are and will. There’s no easy fix. You just do what you need to do to grieve. Ok? You make that choice each day and it gets better. You start getting pieces of yourself back.” His voice was low and the advice came with the same desperate warning he’d given her in the diner. It’s all you can do.

“Thank you.” She meant it. With her whole heart she meant it.

He nodded. Never being one who knew how to handle gratitude. “Let’s get you settled.” She moved to stand and she wobbled, feeling the heaviness of her limbs. Frank steadied her. “I’ve got you.”

They walked out of the bathroom into her small apartment. He lead her over to the bed and pulled back the covers. Karen sank under them, watching Frank Castle, The Punisher, one of the most feared men in Hell’s Kitchen tuck her in. He turned to turn off the kitchen light. She grabbed his hand and he froze. “Wait, why did you come here tonight?”

“It can wait. Get some sleep." And to the sound of her voice she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep." You’re safe.”

Frank went into the kitchen and cleaned up the glass. Turning off the light he moved into the foyer-somehow she’d managed to create such a place in the tiny space. He sat on the couch and watched her breathing slow. Like hell he’d leave her tonight. Karen Page full of guts, grit, and grace. He admired her strength and her humanity.

Frank kept a watchful eye the rest of the morning. Karen slept deeply and peacefully. And she slept in. When her alarm rang at 6 am, Frank rushed to quiet it. Hours later when she woke groggily, she saw a figure in black in her kitchen. She blearily rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Frank Castle was cooking her breakfast. She couldn’t help but giggle.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://lightofpage.tumblr.com/) :)
> 
> Title from Sia's song "Unstoppable". Basically I wrote this whole thing listening to "This is Acting" on repeat.


End file.
